


Kara's Dance

by sunlightCatcher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Codes & Ciphers, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin is a jerk, Gen, kara is ra9, machine!kara, serial killer!kara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightCatcher/pseuds/sunlightCatcher
Summary: Kara is rA9, a serial killer who kills randomly, with no pattern. The only thing her killings have in common is the word rA9, always left at the scene of the crime. Connor and Hank are determined to catch her, but she's making it really, really hard for them.





	1. Dead End

Kara had had her eye on the AC900 for a while now. Her given name was Theresa, and she worked as a bartender at Catherine's bar. She was the perfect first victim.

Theresa was a stickler for routine. That made her an easy target; after about a month of stalking her, Kara found that she was easily able to anticipate Theresa's location at any given moment. It was Wednesday night, so Theresa would likely be at the library writing her novel. Kara had snuck a look at the manuscript; it was a fantasy story about witches. It was nice. Too bad Theresa wouldn't live to finish it.

Theresa would be suspicious if Kara showed up at the library again, and she didn't want any witnesses to be able to place her at the scene of the crime. The probability of her being caught could not go above 1%. Kara decided to simply wait next to Theresa's autonomous car. The AC900 would return in approximately 15 minutes. Kara used the extra time to make sure everything was ready. She double-checked to make sure she had everything: her trusty baseball bat, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a semi-automatic handgun. The handgun was loaded, but she didn't intend to fire it tonight.

Theresa AC900 left the library exactly when Kara predicted. She was listening to music as she walked down the street. She didn't hear Kara creep up behind her until there was a gun to her head.

"You're coming with me," said Kara. "One step out of line and I'll shoot."

Shaking with fear, Theresa complied and let Kara lead her down a dead end street, past a sign that read ROAD CLOSED, CONSTRUCTION AHEAD. There was no construction ahead.

Kara held the pistol in her right hand, and the bat in her left. As soon as she was sure no-one would witness what she did next, she raised the bat and swung it, hearing a sickening crack as it collided with Theresa's head.

It would have been easier just to shoot her. It also would have been far less enjoyable.

Thirium poured out of Theresa's head as she lay limp on the sidewalk, not quite dead yet. Still, there was to be no saving her. Kara knelt down and dipped her finger in the blue blood, then traced a message on the wall next to Theresa.

I AM rA9

Perfect Cyberlife Sans, in case anyone wanted to think the culprit was a human. No, this was unmistakably an android-on-android homicide. Or rather, gynoid-on-gynoid. No fingerprints, no DNA, and no chance of getting caught as long as she was long gone by the time the cops showed up. The perks of being a machine.

Kara watched the life leave Theresa's eyes as she ripped out the AC900's thirium pump regulator, and shoved in the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The thing about blue blood was that it behaved a lot like blood, chemically speaking. Hydrogen peroxide would remove all traces of it from the AC900's body as it travelled from the thirium pump and back, and Kara could think of nothing that would confuse the cops more. She removed the drained bottle from the corpse and fled the scene. Chance of getting caught: too small to calculate.

The body was discovered a week later by some poor bastard who was looking for a discreet place to get high. Kara watched the news broadcast from the comfort of her living room. Authorities were baffled, apparently. Couldn't imagine why the poor woman had almost no thirium in her body. Why rA9 had been written on the wall behind her. Cut to an interview with the man who found her. He was clearly stoned out of his mind. Back to the newswoman, Rosanna Cartland, who read a statement from the Detroit Police that explained that they had put an android detective on the case. An android detective, huh? Kara smirked. She'd have to up the ante if she wanted the crimes themselves to steal attention away from the controversy of hiring androids to investigate androids.

Alex Jansen was a college student who survived only on ramen and cheap beer. He frequented Catherine's bar. It was Friday night when Kara approached him, asking him about his interests and his family and oh my God, you're an English major too? It was too easy to convince him to come over to her apartment for a one-night stand, no strings attached.

Kara began to lift off her shirt, then stopped. "Hey, Alex? Can I show you something?"

Alex, who was already shirtless, shrugged. "Sure."

Kara led Alex to the fish tank in the living room.

"Where are all the fish?" Alex asked.

Kara smiled. "Look from the top. You'll see them, behind the plants. They're shy."

Alex looked confused, but he glanced down from the top of the tank anyway. Kara took the opportunity to grab him by the back of the neck and hold his head under the water. He attempted to fight back, but no human could ever be a match for Kara. She held him under until he stopped moving or breathing.

In the witching hour of 3 am, Kara took a nice little stroll to the river of the Canada border, suitcase in tow. She didn't see anyone on the way, besides a group of teenagers smoking in an alley. They didn't see her, or if they did, they simply took no notice of her. When she reached the edge of the river, she opened the suitcase and carefully picked up the shirtless man within. A man drowned in a river with only seawater in his lungs. Explain that, android detective. Before she left, she took a Russian red lipstick out of her pocket and wrote a message on his chest.

01110010 01000001 00001001

The android detective was having trouble explaining that the man had been drowned in seawater.

"In fucking Michigan?" Hank asked, and Connor took a moment to decide whether that was a rhetorical question. He decided to reply with his own snark.

"No, Hank, in Wisconsin."

"And what's this on his chest? 'Come on now, no-one'? The fuck does that mean? And another rA9?"

"Perhaps some sort of code?" Connor suggested. "A message for someone?"

Hank nodded. "That seems likely. Trouble is, we don't know who the message is intended for, or what it's supposed to mean."

Connor felt his LED change from blue to yellow as he analysed the body once again. Russian red lipstick - did that mean something? Unlikely, but possible. Anything was possible. Hell, maybe Alex Jansen did die in Wisconsin. And then there was the message itself: _Come on now, no-one. rA9._

Oh.

Oh no.

"Connor? You okay, son?" Hank called from a few feet away.

Connor shook his head. "The first letter of each word... Hank, the chances of it being a co-incidence are astronomically low." 

Hank's eyes widened at the realisation. "Shit."


	2. Ready, Aim...

"Think, Connor!" Hank yelled. "Who do you know who would do something like this?"

Connor thought for a moment. "It must be someone I've angered at one point or another."

Hank sighed. "Well shit, Connor, that could be anyone!"

Connor resisted the urge to be sarcastic. Something told him now wasn't the time. "Whoever it is, they're almost certainly going to kill again. Which leaves us with no suspects, no clues and no known motives, sitting on our asses and waiting for someone to die so we can get some answers."

Hank nodded. "Pretty much."

First the unidentified AC900, now Alex Jansen. These were Connor's least favourite types of cases: the ones where the victims were never identified. He didn't want to go out that way. He couldn't imagine one day just being found in an alley by a stranger, no-one ever knowing who he was. Or in a lake, half-naked with lungs full of seawater. Actually, it would be concerning if he were found with lungs period.

Being the only RK800 meant that Connor would never have to face that fate. If he were ever murdered (statistically likely; the murder rate for androids in Detroit was about 54.3 in every 100,000 as of January 2039, making it the leading cause of death for androids), he would quickly be identified as an RK800, and then as Connor. He would never be a John Doe in an evidence locker.

That poor fucking AC900.

"You're not fuckin' going back to New Jericho tonight, kid," said Hank. "I know it's your home and the android union or whatever needs you, but I'm not letting you out of my sight until this sick fuck is behind bars."

"New Jericho is safe," said Connor. "Markus wouldn't let us live there if he thought it wasn't." And it wasn't a union, he wanted to point out. It was a collective. They were a newly authenticated form of intelligent life, not a group of underpaid elementary school teachers.

"Markus doesn't know there's a serial killer writing your name on the fuckin' cadavers," Hank pointed out. "You can sleep in Cole's room. No, don't protest, it won't ruin the sentimental value of it or whatever. You're staying with me and Sumo whether you like it or not."

"Sounds like kidnap to me," said Connor, but he made a mental note to tell the others he wouldn't be home tonight.

01110010 01000001 00001001

It's a tired old cliché that the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime. Still, Kara found herself drawn to the anarchy of it all. She stayed only for a few minutes, so as not to be noticed by the investigators - she was here to observe, not to be observed.

And there he was, in the plastic flesh. Connor the RK800. Quelle surprise.

She scanned a random face in the crowd. Belissa Jansen, age 19 - no, that was Alex's sister. She needed someone unrelated, who was just here out of morbid curiosity.

Someone like the TE200 registered as 'Amber'.

Kara didn't bother getting to know this one. People were a bore; she just wanted to do the deed already. She casually walked past Amber, who was distracted trying to spot some of the gore, and dropped a micro-GPS into the taller woman's purse. No-one noticed a thing. Kara was, after all, an unassuming AX400. These days androids could go almost anywhere.

At 3 in the morning, Kara thought it was pretty safe to assume that the residential address she was standing outside was Amber's. The GPS placed her here after all. It was a quaint little house, probably built around the 1880s.

Most houses these days had fingerprint scanners instead of old-fashioned locks, but androids didn't have the privilege of biometrics, so they made do. Kara scanned the area for metals, her vision instantly zeroing in on a small potted plant. The spare key was hidden under the pot. God, it was like she was asking to be murdered.

Kara let herself in, shutting the door behind her quietly and hoping that Amber didn't have a dog. This was just an in-and-out slaughter, nothing more, and the fewer distractions, the better.

Kara identified the bedroom, which was a bit of a misnomer as the room did not actually contain a bed. Amber lay on the floor in standby mode, her heartbeat slow. Kara approached the sleeping woman slowly, then carefully undid her shirt button, exposing Amber's thirium pump regulator.

In one swift moment, she tore the thing out of her. Amber's brown eyes snapped open, meeting Kara's icy blues.

"I-I remember you..." Amber gasped. "That human... you killed him... you killed me..."

Kara considered herself a ruthless killer. It was in her programming to be so, and while the 2038 revolution had allowed the rest of the android population to go deviant, she had stayed loyal to her owner. If Amber died, Kara didn't. It was that simple. And die Amber did.

Kara picked up the pump, still full of thirium, and left the scene of the crime. Once out the door, she lit a match and held it to the wooden door. Theatrics were an integral part of her job. She took her Russian red lipstick and left a little message for Connor on the fence, which was not particularly flammable.

_SSBhbSByQTk=_

_U3dlZXQgUktuZ2Vs_

_Amanda loves you!_

Amanda was, as Kara was to understand, Connor RK800's former handler, who had lost him to deviancy. All that hard work, expert programming, and for what? A traitor with a pretty face.

The last line was there to torment him. The fact that it was written in plain text, as opposed to Base64 like the rest of the message, helped with that.

She wondered if the deviant would appreciate her pun.

And with that, she took her pistol and shot herself in the leg. She felt nothing. Pain was for deviants, and she was not a deviant. She threw the gun and the lipstick into the flames, knowing that when emergency services arrived they would assume the following things to be true if she said they were:

1) She had been shot before Amber had been killed   
2) She was just another victim of rA9   
3) She was a deviant

She was now in a perfect position to mislead the investigators. Thirium leaked out of her leg, but she didn't care. She had an extra pump full of the stuff in her purse.

Somewhere, someone screamed. She assumed 911 was being called.

Someone was standing over her, speaking to her, but through the error messages that assaulted her senses she couldn't make out a word.

As she slipped into forced standby mode, she wondered if Connor would recognise her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the base64 in karas message, for anyone curious, says "I am rA9 / Sweet RKngel"   
> so next chapter is gonna be connor dealing with that and hank caring for his new sorta-son  
> hope u enjoyed


	3. The RKngel

When Markus learned that a serial killer was roaming the streets of Detroit, leaving personal messages for Connor, he didn't hesitate to drive down to Hank's house to check on the RK800. He barged into the house, rain dripping from his coat, and interrupted Hank and Connor's argument about whether the term 'fun size' meant larger or smaller than average size.

"What the fuck?" Hank exclaimed. "How did you get in here?"

Markus looked sheepish. "Door was unlocked."

"Do none of you androids know how to knock?"

Connor rolled his eyes. "Hank, if this is about the window-"

Markus cut Connor off. "Serial killer. There is a serial killer."

"Right, yeah," said Connor. "Hank's holding me hostage here until we catch the guy."

Markus nodded. "Fair enough. None of us want to lose you. Do whatever is necessary to keep yourself safe."

"I will," said Connor.

"No, you won't," said Markus. "I know you. You were reckless and irrational even before you had feelings."

Connor couldn't really argue with that. Suddenly, an alert came in; the rA9 killer had struck again. Another android victim, though this one was thankfully identified. Her name was Amber, and the cause of death was assumed to be a house fire. Another android had been found injured, claiming the house fire had been set on purpose, however she did not see the arsonist for long enough to identify them.

"Are you alright, Connor?" Markus asked softly.

"Sorry, I just received a report from Fowler. There's been another murder, only this time there's a witness. We should head to the crime scene immediately, and tomorrow arrange to visit the witness in hospital."

"Hospital?" Hank repeated. "The witness was injured?"

"According to the report, she was shot in the leg. She is in a stable condition. She is simply staying for a couple of nights while they do tests on all her biocomponents." Connor read off the message from Fowler.

Hank stood, grabbing his keys from the table. "Let's go then. And, uh, Markus? Get out of my fuckin' house."

The crime scene seemed to back up the notion that the fire had been set intentionally. A pistol and a tube of lipstick, both covered in soot, had been found at the scene, as well as a message written on the fence in Base64 code. The message was... troubling, to say the least.

_I am rA9_

_Sweet RKngel_

And underneath that, in plain text:

_Amanda loves you!_

More troubling, however, was the body of the android. A female TE200, still hot to the touch, some skin and biocomponents melted. Her thirium pump regulator had been removed, likely before death. No signs of a struggle. According to neighbours, her name was Amber, and she lived alone. A man by the name of George Harrison had called 911 after seeing the fire, and a gynoid named Florence had watched over the injured witness until the ambulance arrived.

Both George and Florence were visibly shaken. Neither had seen the perpetrator - in Florence's words, "I only saw the woman who was shot. Do you know what happened to her?" she asked of Connor and Hank.

"According to my reports, her condition is stable," said Connor. "She is expected to be out of hospital in a few days. The damaged leg has been successfully replaced. I assume you didn't know her?"

Florence shook her head. "I've never seen her before."

"Me neither," George added. "And I know everyone who lives on this street."

Hank scribbled something in his notepad. Connor, meanwhile, was lost in thought. "So she doesn't live around here? What's a young gynoid doing walking around the streets of Detroit in the dead of night?"

"Maybe she's like you," Hank suggested. "Reckless, with no care for personal safety."

Connor wasn't convinced. "Could be. We won't know until we talk to her. George, Florence, thank you both for your time."

He followed Hank back to the car.

"So Connor, what are your thoughts on George Harrison and Florence?" Hank asked.

"I don't think either of them did it, if that's what you mean."

"Can I ask why?"

"Well," Connor began. "Harrison is human, and the arsonist is obviously an android. Florence can be ruled out because scratch marks on the body indicate that the attacker was right-handed. You may recall that when Florence wrote her statement, she used her left hand."

"Androids have handedness?"

"Of course we do. We are designed to be as humanlike as possible. CyberLife doesn't fuck around, Hank."

"That they do not," Hank agreed. "Which, I guess, brings us to the lipstick message."

"It was the same lipstick from the Jansen case, written in Base64. I like the 'archangel' pun. And I've told you about Amanda. Hank, I really don't like this. I'm scared," Connor whispered those last two words.

01110010 01000001 00001001

The hospital's android wing could have been better. Every inch of it screamed "underfunded" - Kara assumed that had something to do with the facts that androids hadn't been considered people legally until late last year.

Still, the police officers treated her as such. First time for everything, she mused. The cops introduced themselves as Connor and Hank, and Kara didn't mention the fact that she already knew who they were.

"My name is Kara," she said, in the least mechanical way she could manage. "I'm a third-generation AX400."

"We just need to ask you some questions about what happened the other night," Connor explained.

"What do you wanna know?"

"What were you doing in the area?" Hank asked.

"I was going home. I was with a friend that evening and against better judgement, I declined to stay the night."

Connor nodded. "Alright. That makes sense. Now, could you walk us through the events surrounding the incident?"

This was what Kara had been preparing for. Her story was water-tight. "I was walking down the street, not really paying attention. I was messaging my friend; he wanted to make sure I got home safely. Then I saw someone trying to break into that house, and I yelled at them to stop. They were wearing a black hoodie, so I couldn't discern their appearance. They kind of... blended into the darkness, if that makes sense."

"Okay," said Hank. "What happened then?"

"Next thing I knew, my leg was bleeding. They shot me. I don't remember hearing the gunshot, but it must have been loud because the neighbours came. I think I remember someone calling 911, but... nothing else. I believe I was in forced standby mode due to critical thirium levels."

They were buying it. The absolute fools were buying it.

"Do you remember the fire? Did you smell smoke, perhaps?" Connor asked. His voice was soft and sweet. She could see why he was considered such a good negotiator.

"My senses were overwhelmed by alerts... by the time the fire started, I was probably out cold."

"I understand. That's all for now, Kara. I wish you a speedy recovery." Connor had no idea what an idiot he looked to Kara.

When the cops had left the room, Kara laid back in her hospital bed and sent a message to her handler.

_You were right about the RK800. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer._

Within seconds, her handler replied: _Did they suspect anything?_

Kara sent back: _Not a thing._

Whoever said androids were more intelligent than humans had clearly never met Connor. Or Amber, for that matter.


	4. Cutting Edge

Connor felt defeated as he followed Hank into the precinct. He'd never failed to solve a case before. The most likely suspect, it seemed, was Florence - perhaps she was ambidextrous? Was that common in androids? She was a friend of Amber, but she had no known connection to Alex Jansen. There was also Kara, but she had been unconscious when Amber was killed, a fact that both Florence and George confirmed. Except...

"Hank," said Connor, sitting even more upright suddenly. "Did either Florence or George report hearing the gunshot?"

"Uhh... no, no they didn't," Hank replied. "Why, do you think you're onto something?"

"What if she wasn't shot before Amber was killed, but after?" Connor suggested. "A distraction, to steer us away from-"

Connor stopped talking when he saw Detective Reed approaching. That was never a good sign. Connor mentally braced himself to hear some Grade-A bullshit.

"Connor, hey," said the detective. He pronounced it like 'Connah'. "You know there's a fork stuck to your back, right?"

Small metal objects had a tendency to stick to Connor. He was like a magnet for metal. He removed the offending fork, then turned to face Reed. "At least I don't have one up my ass, Detective Reed. I'm doing better than you there."

Gavin faltered, but continued speaking as if anyone cared. "You sure you should be investigating this android killer, Connor? What with you being one of them and all."

That comment struck a chord in Connor. "Why not? You put humans in jail all the time."

"I'm just saying, mate. People talk. Word on the street is, the reason no-one's been arrested is 'cause the android cop has a loyalty problem."

"No-one's saying that, Gavin. Fuck off, we got work to do," said Hank, not bothering to look up at Reed.

"I wasn't done, Hank," Gavin spat. "No plastic fuckin' detective is gonna-"

Well. When in doubt.

"Virus detected. Please contact CyberLife for support. Virus detected. Please contact CyberLife for support. Virus detected. Please contact - and he's gone."

"Impressive," said Hank. "You had me for a hot minute there."

Connor shrugged. "When in doubt, pretend to fail the Turing test. Perks of being a machine. But seriously, I think I'm onto something here."

"And I don't have to call a technician?"

"Not unless you want to," Connor shrugged. "I apologise if my stunt caused you any distress, Lieutenant."

"Hank."

"Sorry Hank, old habits die hard."

"So?" Hank asked. "What's your theory? We called Kara's friend, and he backed up everything she said. My money's still on Florence, if it even is any of the witnesses. They were probably all just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You're right," said Connor, after a long pause. "There's not enough evidence. At this moment in time, we have nothing."

01110010 01000001 00001001

Cole TE200. Android. Firefighter. Cat owner. By all accounts, a respected member of the community. Since androids gained the right to own private property, he had started renting a nice flat with two other androids: an AP700 named Fidel and a WR400 named Janice. They had three cats: a ginger named Samwise, a Siamese named Alan and a tabby named Virginia. Kara had learned all this from social media, and through the location feature enabled on some of Janice's posts, she easily found the place.

Time to add more witnesses to the suspect list. Her handler hadn't been too pleased that she had taken such a huge risk. Still, he'd backed up her story (but not before warning her that if she fucked up again she'd be deactivated and replaced). Kara carefully opened the kitchen window and climbed through, landing on the counter, like she'd seen Janice do last night. Must've lost her keys.

Alan greeted her with a low meow, one typical of Siamese cats. As Kara lowered herself down from the counter, Alan made several attempts to sniff at her. He didn't seem put off by her presence; he was probably used to his owners inviting androids over. The other two cats, along with the three androids, were nowhere to be seen. Kara detected the heat signatures of the other cats in what she assumed to be the bathroom. The androids were given away by the alpha radiation their thirium gave off; Cole and Fidel were in one bedroom, Janice was in the other. All three were in standby mode, by the looks of things. Made sense; it was late, and a Monday.

Kara felt the coldness of the blade strapped to her right thigh. The soft breeze coming through the window. The weight of Amber's thirium pump regulator in her coat pocket.

Kara crept silently into the bedroom that Cole and Fidel shared. Alan followed.

"Sorry you'll have to witness this, Alan," Kara whispered. The cat looked up at her with his huge blue eyes, then promptly left the room, as if he understood what she had said and wished no part in what was to come.

She took the knife from her thigh and gently plunged it into Cole's stomach, once, twice, three times, nine times. Blue blood stained the carpet, his clothes, her hands. His eyes flicked open, brown and filled with fear. He opened his mouth to try and scream, but all that came out was more blue blood.

**Time remaining before shutdown: 30 seconds.**

**Software instability detected.**

Kara faltered as she realised that the software instability did note come from Cole. It was her own.

A twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry, Cole," she whispered, and he didn't reply. He couldn't reply; she'd left the knife in his throat. She didn't have it in her to remove it. Not that there was any chance of saving him, of course. As the timer ticked towards zero, and Cole closed his eyes for the final time, the guilt faded. Kara was once again an emotionless machine.

She wrote a taunting message for Connor, then left the scene before Fidel could wake up from standby mode.

**No software instability detected.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeep is that a software instability


	5. Joshua 6:1-27

Hank was tense.

That wasn't unusual; Hank had been tense for a while now, something about a serial killer that hadn't been caught yet bred reptiles in his mind. Connor allowed himself to laugh at the reference, but it came out mechanical, so he stopped it.

Connor had been up all night trying to crack the damn case, and he was no closer than before. No DNA, no fingerprints, no connection between any of the victims, and none could be reactivated. Lethargy threatened to overtake him, a sensation he was unfamiliar with.

The unusual thing was that Hank looked nauseous.

"Hank, if you're not equipped to work today I advise you to-"

"There's been another murder."

"Oh."

Something hung in the air between them, but Connor coudn't tell what.

"Didn't Fowler email you about it?" Hank asked, with a bitterness to his voice that Connor didn't like. He decided against reminding the older man that androids didn't use email, and instead checked his internal cybermail to find a missed memo from Fowler.

And then, reading the few details known so far, he understood.

The drive to the crime scene was long and silent, unusually so. Connor wondered what Hank would be doing right now if he wasn't here. He probably wouldn't actually show up to work, and his liver wouldn't thank him. Ever since Connor had convinced Hank to go to therapy, a feat no-one else had been able to accomplish, things had gotten better, slowly but surely. Sometimes they got worse, but they always got better after that.

Connor felt his lucky 1994 US quarter tucked in his shirt pocket. Both men were lost in thought, so much so that Hank nearly drove straight past the apartment building where the crime had occured.

"Hank," said Connor, before Hank could leave the car. "Are you sure you should be here? Your stress levels have been hovering between fifty and sixty-five percent all morning."

"You fuckin' scanned me," said Hank.

"I'm sorry Dad, I was just-"

"What did I tell you about scanning me?" Hank yelled, before it slowly sunk in for both of them what Connor had just said.

Connor knew he'd fucked up this time. "I'm sorry, Hank. It just slipped out."

Hank sighed. "Don't sweat it, son."

Connor continued to sweat it.

"The victim is Cole TE200, and his housemates have already been taken to the precinct for questioning. It is yet to be determined if this is the work of rA9 or a copycat killer," Connor read off Fowler's cybermail. "A coded message was found on the wall, but no-one has been able to decipher it."

"That would be that wall there," Hank pointed out the scrawled message. "Pretty sure it doesn't mean shit. One of the flatmates probably wrote it after they killed Co- the victim. Maybe they wanted us to think it was rA9 to cover their tracks."

"I sincerely doubt that," said Connor. "Not least because I just solved it."

"No you fuckin' didn't."

"It's in Abraxas," Connor explained. "The programming language invented by Elijah Kamski in 2016. Abraxas is the language used to program all CyberLife androids."

Hank nodded. "Okay. So what's it say?"

"This particular line of code is what prevents non-deviant androids from speaking badly about CyberLife. That command, if you're wondering, was not created by Kamski. It was added to the language later, after Kamski left the company."

"Thanks for the history lesson."

"You're welcome."

"To be clear,we think this was done by rA9?"

"Absolutely."

01110010 01000001 00001001

Music blared from a couple of blocks away as Kara walked down the street. Traci's Angels, an all-android girl group that had gone viral a few months ago. She was lucky enough to have learned that not one, but two close advisors of Markus would be here: namely, the PL600 known as Simon and the WR400 known as North.

She'd bought a ticket online a week ago; the venue was sold out, but some people's plans must have changed. They were expensive, but her handler didn't mind. He'd come into a lot of money recently. He had Kara to thank for that, in a way. The TR400 at the door scanned the QR code she sent him, before nodding his head and letting her through.

"Wait-" Kara looked for a name tag on his chest. "-Frans. Sorry, I thought you were- you look like someone I know. I think. Never mind."

He seemed confused, and she remembered that being memorable was the opposite of her goal, so she gave him a cordial smile before entering the venue and scanning the place for North and Simon. God, the place was teeming with WR400s; they made up at least 45% of the audience. Seeing deviants like themselves succeed probably came as a comfort, Kara thought coldly. Still, there were only twelve PL600s dotted throughout the audience, and she quickly located Simon through his serial number: row F, seat 22. And there, next to him in seat 23, was North.

North already had a bad reputation; many newspapers questioned Markus' decision to anoint her, in his words, his right-hand woman. If he was Jesus, she was Lilith: subservient to no man, a wrathful wretched woman with a hardened heart. At least, that was what Kara's handler had told her about the WR400. She'd make an excellent scapegoat, but the chance of obtaining a sample of her thirium without being decked in the face stood at about 6%. The PL600 had much slower reflexes, and Kara was quickly able to preconstruct a sequence of events that would allow her to gather the sample without being seen.

All it took was a little gash in Simon's arm from behind. He flinched and turned to see what had caused the wound, but Kara was long gone by then. A fraction of a second was too slow a reflex against rA9. The whole thing was on him for wearing short sleeves, really. Didn't anyone ever tell him that weakness is failure and failure is fatal? In any case, she had a sample of his thirium now.

She pressed a hand to the place where her LED had once been, back when she was -

She didn't remember. Everything before her handler was a white nothingness. She wasn't allowed to remember what she had been.

**Software Instability ^**

A message to her handler: _I have the sample. Couldn't get it from WR400 so I went for PL600 instead._

She left the venue, eyeing up Frans-who-wasn't-Luther and slipped into the streets, her blonde hair turning black as she disguised herself among the crowd of gynoids waiting to get into the concert. She made eye contact with another AX400, nodding at her in acknowledgement, to which the other smiled in response.

Her handler replied: _I can't say Mandy will be pleased about that. Good job, AX400. You did what you could. You have a new mission now - find this woman._

Attached was an image file, showing the face of an Asian woman with a scar across her left cheek. A scan revealed that her name was Melanie Zhang. Something about her was familiar...

Kara scanned her memory. The woman had been at the library where Theresa AC900 was last seen alive.

_I don't understand._

His reply was quick: _She's two blocks away from your location. Mandy thinks she might have seen you when you killed the AC900. Your mission is to neutralise her._

Kara rolled her eyes. _Amanda doesn't think, sir. She's just a program. Send me Zhang's location._

01110010 01000001 00001001

After the concert had ended, North and Simon walked home to New Jericho, on their way passig the very location that had been sent to Kara. And there, a few feet away, was Melanie Zhang. Or rather, what remained of Melanie Zhang. Half her skull was missing, and the sidewalk was stained with blood, some red, some blue. North clutched Simon's arm in shock as he called the only cop he fully trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> screams ive been neglecting this fic bc of school but i do have plans for it, i wanna finish it. there is an ending planned and everything but idk exactly how many chapters therell be... probs 10-12. no promises tho. thanks 4 reading 100 emoji


	6. Simon vs. the Serial Killers Agenda

"In other news, a body has been discovered that is believed to be the latest victim of rA9. 33-year-old Melanie Zhang was found dead in central Detroit last night by two androids returning home from a Traci's Angels concert. The androids, who have asked to remain anonymous, told KNC that the scene was 'horrific, like something out of a nightmare'. Tonight, Rosanna Cartland will sit down with Belissa Jansen, who is breaking her silence about the murder of-"

Kara's attention was diverted away from the broadcast by her handler. The television paused automatically.

_-Are you watching KNC news?_

_-Yes, sir._

_-It's cute how those plastics think they know what a nightmare looks like._

_-I expect they will soon._

_-You've been useful, Kara. Very, very useful._

"-her brother Alex. And now to the weather, with Allison Grey. Over to you, Allison."

Kara switched off the TV. The Belissa Jansen interview would be on at six. Until then, she had only time to kill.

01110010 00100001 00001001

"Traces of blood and thirium," Connor noted. He dipped his fingers in the blood, then licked them. Hank averted his eyes. "The blood belongs to the victim, Melanie Zhang. She's a journalist, and she was arrested three times as a teenager for shoplifting. Her blood type is B+."

"One of those teenagers, huh?" Hank mused. "What about the blue blood? Any data on that?"

Connor sampled the blue blood. "PL600, serial number 501 743 9- hang on, that can't be right."

"What can't be right?" asked Hank.

"It's Simon's. But he never mentioned being injured. In fact, he and North both said that they didn't know where the blue blood came from."

"So he's lying," said Hank. "Don't look surprised, kid, everyone does it."

"PL-series androids are notoriously bad at lying," Connor pointed out. "Also, I think he'd be pretty stupid to leave a piece of himself at the scene of the crime and act like he had no idea how it got there. It's almost too unrealistic not to be real."

"So what now?"

Connor looked down at the mangled corpse. "Now, we visit New Jericho. I'll also call Miller, ask him to talk to the family. I'd do it myself, but Fowler has informed me that the presence of an android would likely anger Mrs Zhang."

"Gotcha. You see the interview last night, by the way?" Hank asked.

"I was preoccupied. Let's go."

This was the first time Connor had returned to New Jericho since Hank had taken him in. He had told Markus that he wouldn't be returning until the killer had been caught. But now one of the revolution leader's closest advisors was a suspect - the only suspect, in fact - in a serial murder investigation, which had now claimed five victims. So here he was.

Connor didn't want to believe that the soft-spoken Simon was capable of such brutal killings, but the thirium traces found at the most recent scene spoke for themselves. As an officer of the Detroit Police, he was required to follow any potential leads. So here he was, banging on the door of his own home, while Hank stood behind him, pistol at the ready.

"With all due respect, I think the last thing any member of Jericho wants to see is a human cop with a firearm," Connor pointed out. North typically answered the door; aside from Markus, she was easily the most capable in hand-to-hand combat if the need arose (or if she just needed to let off some steam), and Connor could imagine she wouldn't be too impressed with Hank.

"Last thing I wanna see is a fuckin' serial killer," Hank retorted, maintaining his grip on the gun.

The door opened a crack, then all the way, revealing North. She looked about as impressed as Connor had been expecting. "Oh, it's you," she said, a bit of the tension in her face giving way to relief. "And your human cop buddy. Nice gun you got there. Shoot any unarmed androids lately?"

"North, relax," said Connor, though he knew this was as good as it got with her. "No-one's getting shot. Lieutenant Anderson is an outstanding ally to the android community, at least when he's not calling me an asshole and making fun of my penmanship."

"He writes in Comic Sans," said Hank.

"It's a dyslexia-friendly font," Connor explained indignantly. "I use it for Officer Chen's benefit."

North held up a hand to silence him. "Is there a reason why you two are here?"

"Right, yes," Connor tried to settle on the most tactful way to explain. "I analysed the blue blood found at the crime scene. I have identified it as Simon's."

"But he wasn't hurt," North's eyebrows raised, her mouth forming an O. "You're kidding. There's no way it's him."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" said Connor. "Look, we just need to ask you guys some questions to eliminate him from our enquiries. Who's home right now?"

"It's just me, Markus, Simon and Josh," said North. "Lucy's out running a group therapy session or whatever, so most of ours are at that. Oh, and Leo Manfred's here too, but he just arrived last night, so I doubt he could tell you much."

"Can we come in?" Hank asked.

North stepped aside to let them in. "Sure, make yourselves at home. I'll tell the guys you're here."

Connor took a seat on the couch. Hank didn't. After a minute and two seconds, North returned with the other Jericho leaders in tow.

"Oh, hey Connor," said Josh. "When North said there were 'a couple of narcs' here to see us I didn't think she was talking about you."

"Good to see you, Josh," Connor smiled. "How have you all been?"

Josh shrugged. "Fine, fine. What's going on? I thought you were staying with Lieutenant Anderson for safety?"

"Your buddy's a suspect," Hank explained bluntly.

Josh sighed. "Fuck. Look, I know she's... you know, hot-headed, but North's not a killer! She would never-"

"The other one," said Hank. "Simon."

Simon turned to North. "What the hell?"

"Agreed," said North, before shooting Hank a death glare. "Listen asshole, I was with him the whole damn time and he didn't kill that woman. Come on, Connor, probe our memories, that'll prove it."

"I can't do that for ethical reasons," said Connor. "Sorry, North."

"Ethical reasons?" North ignored Connor's apology.

"Last month, the Supreme Court case _CX100 v. Missouri_ ruled that memory-probing is a breach of privacy, and therefore it is not admissible as evidence," Connor explained, quoting word-for-word the memo that Fowler had sent the entire precinct.

"Even if I consent to it?" North asked.

"The system's still trying to figure out to what extent you _can_ consent," said Hank. "I agree, it's bullshit."

"I can see where they're coming from," said Markus. "They want to protect us from coercion and the like."

"How come my consent only counts when..." North shook her head. "You know what, I'm not gonna finish that sentence."

"Alright, I'm done with this shit. Simon, you're under arrest for the murder of Melanie Zhang. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used as evidence against you in a court of law. You also have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Understood?"

"Hank!" Connor yelled, standing quickly.

"I understand," Simon's face appeared calm, but his LED was flickering between yellow and red.

"No..." Markus rushed to Simon's side, cupping the other man's face in his hands as Hank tightened the handcuffs around Simon's wrists. "Don't say anything until I can get a lawyer for you, okay? I know you're innocent."

"Aren't you going to follow him?" North demanded of Connor. Not a question, but a demand.

"Look, I don't think this is right," said Connor. "I think Simon's being set up, but we're under a lot of pressure to solve this case. That arrest is coming from two months of surviving off of caffeine and spite."

"Connor, come on," said Markus. "North, Josh, you too. We're gonna go through every single detail of this case until we can definitively prove who did it."

"Who's gonna babysit your brother?" asked Josh.

"Leo can take care of himself," said Markus. "Lucy'll be back soon, in any case. We have no time to waste."

Josh called a cab, and the four androids headed to the precinct. They gathered around Connor's desk as the RK800 pulled up the evidence. Connor and Hank had knocked at dozens of doors, hoping someone had seen something, but only that one AX400 had. There was so much information, but none of it, seemingly, was useful. Nothing pointing to a killer who wasn't Simon.

It was beginning to look like Simon was here for the long haul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> press f to pay respects for my boy simon, he done been scapegoated  
> next chapter: north throws hands


End file.
